


Talking Body

by MumbleBee19



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Body Dysmorphic Disorder, M/M, Swearing, bullying (past)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 17:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14406615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MumbleBee19/pseuds/MumbleBee19
Summary: Jack has always been uncomfortable with compliments. Maybe more than uncomfortable. Bitty has some thoughts.





	Talking Body

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for talk of body dysmorphia. I'm by no means an expert, so if something seems really wrong, please let me know! Trigger warning for body dysmorphic disorder talk, past bullying over weight/looks.
> 
> Characters belong to the brilliant Ngozi!

Sometimes Eric couldn’t believe the boy in front of him was even real. Let alone his. Let alone that he was allowed – invited even – to touch the miles of smooth, pale skin. The ridges and planes of hard earned muscle. The rivers of tendons and veins. Dark, silky hair and stubbled cheeks. Jack’s body was a whole world unto itself, and Eric felt like mapping it was his duty. Selfless duty. Obviously. For science.

Sweaty and sated, Jack shifted on the bed beneath where Eric was straddling him, thighs snugged up along his sides and perky bum cradled between Jack’s hips. They’d been together in pretty much every way imaginable by this time in their relationship (twenty-something young men flooded with adrenaline and testosterone = a whole lotta sex), but Jack still wasn’t used to the way Bitty looked at him sometimes. Times like this. Like Jack was some piece of renaissance art. Beautiful. Precious. Unknowable. Something to be cherished. Everything that Jack wasn’t.

Both men had grown up in locker rooms of one type or another, so the vulnerability of nudity wasn’t something new, but Jack still felt a tightness in his throat under Bitty’s intense gaze – anxiety rising slowly to choke him – and exhaled shakily. Eric’s dark eyes flicked up to meet his, the smug smile sliding away at whatever he saw on Jack’s face.

“Baby? What’s going on?”

Jack swallowed audibly without meeting Eric’s eyes, sat up, and gently pulled him off his lap to scoot them both back to lean on the padded headrest. He tucked Eric underneath his arm, pulling him close while tugging the rumpled sheets up and over their legs.

Eric was quiet. He knew by now to let Jack take his time to gather his thoughts. He pressed in closer to Jack’s side, nuzzling a little into the hollow between his shoulder and chest. He could hear Jack’s heart beat thumping a little too fast, a little too uneven, and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his pectoral muscle, as if he could convince it to slow down.

Jack tentatively cleared his throat.

“Sometimes. When we’re … like this. You’ll look at me. At my body. And um.” 

He swallowed again, words rushing out self-consciously. “And I just don’t know how to feel when you do, because I can tell that you like what you see? But I just don’t think that how you see me is realistic, or maybe I’m just confused because I don’t see what you seem to see, and it’s just. I don’t know. I’m just self-conscious I guess. Which is dumb. Never mind, can we forget the last 30 seconds happened and go back to cuddling? I’m sorry, I always have to ruin-”

Eric cut off the increasingly anxious babbling with a pained little squawk and firm fingers over Jack’s lips. He could feel Jack trembling slightly against him, breath hot and jagged against the tips of his fingers. He tried to meet Jack’s eyes, but they were downcast, dark lashes a delicate fan against cut cheekbones.

“Honey, you didn’t ruin anything. I always want to know what you’re feeling, especially if I’m doing something that’s hurting you somehow.”

Jack swallowed and looked up to finally meet Eric’s huge brown eyes - wide and liquid, concerned, but practically spilling over with love and affection. Jack swallowed again at the lump in his throat and tried not to squeeze too hard where he was already hanging onto Bitty’s shoulder like a lifeline.

“Sweetheart, have you ever heard of something called body dysmorphia?”

Jack’s brow wrinkled in thought. “That’s something to do with eating disorders, right? I don’t think I have an issue with eating, Bittle.”

Eric laughed lightly. No, this boy could eat, but that wasn’t what he was getting at. “Well yes and no. I’m not claiming to be some kinda expert, but you don’t need to have an eating disorder to have body dysmorphia … I think the eating issues can follow, but not always. Um.” Eric tried to think of the simplest words.

“I think it’s like – what you see when you look at your body, isn’t like what other people see. And maybe even it’s so far off, that there’s something actually wrong with how your brain is interpreting what your eyes are seeing. And I think that maybe, because you were so self-conscious when you were a kid, when you still had your baby fat, that maybe your brain never let that feeling go? And now, when I look at your body, or anyone does really … what I’m seeing and saying doesn’t feel … true to you. Or right. Because you still see yourself so … differently.”

Eric was rambling, he knew it, but he had also been thinking about this for a while, a bit worried when he realized that Jack wasn’t just modest. Well, he was modest, but this was different. Jack actually didn’t believe Bitty when he complimented him, and seemed disoriented when he playfully flat-out ogled him.

Jack looked thoughtful, a wry smile trying to make an appearance. “Just what I need, eh? Another mental health issue. Outstanding.”

Eric’s eyes widened, worried, but Jack just huffed out a breath/laugh, and leaned down to nuzzle at the top of his head. “That sounded worse than I meant it. I guess I never really… Analyzed. Why I felt so uncomfortable with compliments and stuff? When I was a kid… there were some pretty awful things written about me in gossip magazines. Trying to figure out how the kid of a model and pro athlete could be so awkward looking and fat. Lucky for me my face is practically a clone of my dad’s now, or they would have probably tried to pin it on the mailman.”

Eric pushed away, staring at Jack, completely appalled.

“You have got to be kidding. They wrote that? About a CHILD?! What the fuck Jack?!”

Jack just smiled gently, “Yeah. My mom was super pissed at People magazine for a long time. But she was absolutely furious with the parents of the kid who posted the ‘article’ in the locker room before a game. Jamie MacKinnon, I’ll never forget that smug little face. Papa had to haul her out of the dressing room.”

“HE WHAT?! Your TEAMMATE DID WHAT?! Oh what a… what a horrible little… oooh,” Eric was almost speechless he was so angry. If he’d been Alicia Zimmermann, it would have taken a hell of a lot more than one Bad Bob to hold him back. Eric wanted to go back in time and throttle that nasty little bastard. Or just burn Canada to the ground and bundle baby Jack away somewhere safe. Precious lamb.

Jack’s laughter was what broke Eric out of his murderous reverie. “Bits,” more laughter. “Bits you should see your face right now.” Jack was outright cackling, Eric’s simmering indignation turning to the not-so-precious grown version of said lamb.

“Pardon me, Mr. Zimmermann, for caring that some vicious little beast-“

Jack tackled him down onto the mattress, pressing kisses to Eric’s flushed cheeks, laughing all the while and batting away his hands. Eventually he just laid flat on top of Eric, deadweight trembling with suppressed hilarity, until Eric started laughing too. Well. Gasping. Because he couldn’t really breathe with 200+ pounds of jackass on top of him. But Jack was laughing, and that made everything a little better.

Jack finally rolled to the side to grin at a slightly-flattened Bittle. Eric beamed back before he remembered he should be annoyed with this gorgeous heathen in front of him.

Jack reached out to brush the hair off of Eric’s forehead, caressing his cheek and pressing a thumb to his lips like a kiss.

“Bits. Thank you. For caring and getting all riled up over something that happened 17-odd years ago. I haven’t really thought about that in a long time, but it’s good to be able to laugh about it with you.”

Eric harrumphed, but smiled back. “Jack, I want you to think about what I said about the body dysmorphia thing, ok? It’s something to maybe talk with Linda about next session? Because believing Jamie-God-Damn-MacKinnon’s and People-Fucking-Magazine’s opinion of your body over MINE. Well. That’s just damn well unacceptable. I refuse to have my taste impugned in such a manner.”

Jack’s grin had softened, and he leaned forward to kiss Eric. Soft and tender, luscious in a way that must only be possible with lips like Jack’s. He pulled back to look at a slightly-dazed Eric.

“Yeah Bits, that’s a good idea.”


End file.
